


Old and New

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Hook-Up, Just Friends, M/M, Multi, break-up, pool kiss, rain kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac groaned a little and moved to open the door. “It’s complicated. He’s... different than the others. I don’t want to fuck it up.” </p><p>Combeferre stepped out of the car as well and hummed sympathetically. He knew all too well the feeling of not wanting to fuck things up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old and New

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place long before _Wedding_ , _The BOOnapartist_ , and _Blizzard_

“Courfeyrac, can I discuss something with you?” Combeferre said from the passenger seat of Courfeyrac’s car as he slathered sunscreen on his skin and filled the car with its metallic smell. Courfeyrac glanced over from the road and smiled, his youthful features lighting up as they always did.

“Of course. Do you even have to ask?”

Combeferre smiled and shook his head, taking a deep breath. The seventeen year-old’s hair was shaggy, almost down to his shoulders, and he wore thick rimmed glasses. He almost looked like a caricature of himself with sunscreen smeared on his nose carelessly and his lips pursed in thought. He scrunched up his brow further for a second before beginning.

“I had this dream last night. Normally I don’t read into that superstitious bullshit but... it was about Enj. In the dream, I was underwater, but I could breathe. And then he appeared above me and took off my glasses. When he did, I was blind and I couldn’t breathe. It woke me up in a panic.”

Courfeyrac blinked, taking it all in. “Well, it could mean a few things,” he started. “One... Enjolras is going to murder you today at the pool. Two... you feel like you’re drowning in your relationship with him and he’s making you blind. I’m gonna go for two.”

Combeferre groaned and kicked his feet up on the dashboard, slouching and pouting. He had never broken up with anyone before, especially not his best friend. He and Enjolras had been together a full two years now. However, as most things go, they were on the cusp of falling apart. They were both going to be attending the same university in the fall, but Combeferre knew that pre-med and political science were both challenging and busy degrees to be seeking. And it wasn’t just that. He _knew_ he was holding Enjolras back. He _knew_ that if they settled for each other, they’d grow to resent each other, and their friendship might not weather the challenge.

The transition from best friends to boyfriends happened a little clumsily but as all personal progressions do. They had a conversation between one another late at night when Combeferre was over at Enjolras’s house. The next morning, they began incorporating more couple-esque things; lingering touches and sitting a little close to one another. Eventually it became official (and, much to Combeferre and Enjolras’s annoyance, Facebook official after Courfeyrac practically demanded it). And it wasn’t that the sex wasn’t good, it was. And it wasn’t that Combeferre did not love Enjolras, he did. A simple parting has grown between them as they grew older and closer to officially graduating. The affection was still there but in strictly best friend manner.

Courfeyrac glanced at his friend’s expression and reached over, clasping his knee. “I’ve noticed a change if that makes you feel better.”

“Really?” Combeferre raised his eyes, and the boy smiled, all wild dark curls and comforting assertions.

“Definitely.” Courfeyrac leaned back into his seat and drummed at the steering wheel as they waited for the red light to change. “I mean it isn’t a _bad_ change. It’s just...” he tapped his chin in thought, “you guys are starting to act like you did before you were a couple.”

 _Oh_ , Combeferre thought to himself, and he ran a hand through his hair. If he felt it and Courfeyrac could see it, he wondered if Enjolras was just as aware.

“Don’t worry,” Courfeyrac said as he continued driving. “All you need to do is talk to Enjolras and see what he says.”

Yes, all he would need to do is _talk_ to Enjolras. It seemed simple enough but his stomach still knotted a little in anticipation. He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts to other things.

“What about you?” Combeferre glanced over at Courfeyrac who raised an eyebrow in question. “You’re usually Mr. Heartbreaker but I haven’t heard you mention anyone for quite some time.”

Courfeyrac smirked and shrugged, and Combeferre could see a blush rising to his friend’s cheeks. “You’re blushing, Courf. You _never_ blush. Who is it?”

Courfeyrac, who had pulled into a parking space, turned off his car. “Perhaps I’ve had my eye on a little poet.”

“Jehan?” Combeferre asked, but he could see the appeal. Jehan, with his strawberry blond hair that was always kept in a braid and freckled face, was a loving soul. He made everyone feel good when things got bad. Though he was one of the newest to join their group of friends, he had been the most welcomed. “You should talk to him.”

Courfeyrac groaned a little and moved to open the door. “It’s complicated. He’s... different than the others. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Combeferre stepped out of the car as well and hummed sympathetically. He knew all too well the feeling of not wanting to fuck things up.

 

When Combeferre and Courfeyrac entered the pool area behind Enjolras’s house, it was immediately obvious that Bossuet was lying when he said ‘small pool party’. Everyone they knew was there and, oddly enough, others who they had never seen. Combeferre was a bit taken aback at first; the last time he had been in this pool, it had been him and Enjolras alone, pressed up against the side and finding new ways to move together. Now it was overrun with loud teenagers, drinking and lounging and splashing around.

 _Thank god Enjolras’s parents don’t return from their trip to Taiwan until next Thursday_ , Combeferre thought.

Courfeyrac, on the other hand, lit up and beamed, padding over and throwing his arms out.

“Party’s here, peasants!” He grinned, looking god-like with his sunglasses and unbuttoned shirt and swim trunks. Everyone looked up and cheered at his entrance before he was shoved in the pool by Bahorel.

Combeferre instantly took the opportunity to look around for the host, who was nowhere to be seen. He did, however, see Feuilly leaning against the diving board, smoking a cigarette. He approached him.

“Hey.” Combeferre smiled. “Do you know where Enj is?”

“I’m supposed to keep tabs on your boyfriend now?” Feuilly chuckled before nodding toward the sliding glass door to their right. “He said he was getting overheated and went inside.”

“Thanks.” Combeferre slapped him on his slightly sunburnt back and went over.

It wasn’t hard to find Enjolras once he slid into the vastly more quiet house. The blond was leaning up against the arm of his parents’ couch in their basement, sipping at a glass of water and looking down. He approached him silently.

“Enj,” he greeted, flopping down into a chair across from him. Enjolras looked lost in thought, as he often did, but up. His features, sharp with reverie seemed to soften. He fell into an easy smile which didn’t quite reach his blue eyes. Combeferre returned the smile as best he could before looking down. “We need to talk.”

Enjolras’s smile disappeared just as fast as it had come. He tilted his head in acknowledgement, turning to face him entirely. He was clad in red swim trunks and an old Bob Dylan t-shirt. Combeferre managed a fond glimpse before he returned his stare to his flip-flops.

“I was speaking with Courf this morning.” He clasped his fingers together just as Enjolras put his glass on the coffee table. “He seemed to think that... that we’ve started acting like we did before we were together; when we were just best friends. And I can see where he’s coming from. We’re heading off to university soon, and we’ll barely have time for each other... well, enough to keep our friendship strong, I hope, but not enough for a relationship.. It’s almost like... I’m afraid of losing you as my best friend, and I feel like trying to keep what we have going through university is going to ruin that. And I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The words rushed out in helpless abandon, and Enjolras listened in stony silence, his eyes turned downward, a single twist of blond hair falling into his eyes. Combeferre continued.

“I had this dream. I won’t go into details but from what I got out of it... I feel like I’m drowning. And it’s nothing _you_ did. It’s nothing _I_ did either. It’s just... I’m drowning in the fear of _losing_ you.” He tried to keep himself stable, his breath a little shaky. “Also, I constantly worry that I’m holding you back and keeping you from meeting someone who’s perfect for you, which I’m not. We’re too similar. You’re an Ares type, Enjolras. You were made for opposites. I’m not your Aphrodite, I’m Hephaestus. I just want you to be happy.”

“You do make me happy,” Enjolras muttered so quietly that Combeferre was not sure he had heard it. Then, the blond looked up and Combeferre felt something tear deep inside of his soul. There were tears lining his blue eyes, only halted from their downward flow by his thick golden lashes. His lips were pressed together in an unhappy line as he regarded the other boy.

And it was in that moment that Combeferre was reminded that Enjolras was not a statue. He was not carved from marble or cast in bronze. It was the side of Enjolras that he had initially fallen deeply for; the vulnerable side, the side that needed and wanted and dreamed and wept and sighed.

“You do,” Enjolras continued, “but I think I understand what you mean. I don’t want to lose you either. You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” Combeferre added quickly.

The blond sighed and gave him a watery smile, and Combeferre, a little overwhelmed, engulfed him into a tight embrace. Enjolras circled his arms around his frame and squeezed in return. Then, just like that, they parted.

“I’ll see you out there?” Combeferre nodded towards the party, and Enjolras hummed in agreement.

The taller man turned and left him, the atmosphere by the pool completely opposite from the emotions still rolling through him. Courfeyrac, who was dripping wet and sipping a beer, gave him a small smile, and he returned the gesture, a little sad. He knew that it would take time for everything to return to normal. Though, there was a weight that had been lifted from his shoulders.

He was jostled slightly when he felt Bahorel slap him on his back and hand him a bottle, all grins and muscles and tanned skin. “‘Ferre, my friend! You look a little down, and there are no frowns when I’m around.”

Combeferre, deciding to tell his friends in a better setting, accepted the drink with a bright smile, and he sipped at it thankfully. Bahorel gave another encouraging slap to the back then took off towards Courfeyrac, the pair colliding and falling onto the pool with a wild splash.

There was a laugh from behind Combeferre, and he turned to see Enjolras, the emotions still lined into his face but looking okay. The blond passed him, touching his arm lightly, before going to the side of the pool and yelling threats at the tangled pair who were now dunking one another and sending water on everyone within a twenty foot radius.

Combeferre moved towards the seating by the patio when he noticed another pair of eyes watching. Jehan, the poet dressed in floral swimming trunks and a brightly colored shirt, was perched on a chair, grinning and drinking idly as the altercation unfolded. Bahorel had now yanked Enjorlas into the pool, and there was a fury of limbs and cursing from the water while anyone watching cheered enthusiastically. Combeferre took a seat by the smaller boy, and Jehan reached over to pull him into a half-hug greeting.

“You’re sad,” Jehan said in his usual ethereal voice, half sigh and half song. “I can tell.”

“Yes,” Combeferre replied,” but I’m okay.”

“And so is he, it would seem.” The boy looked out towards the pool where Enjolras was splashing water in Courfeyrac’s face and laughing. Combeferre smiled a bit but nodded, inhaling deeply.

“I certainly hope so. It isn’t easy, but it’s necessary.”

“You weren’t made to be lovers,” Jehan continued in quiet observation. “It’s possible for you to be lovers, but you weren’t _made_ for it. I think people should only end up with another who fit with them, like a puzzle piece. You and Enjolras are two puzzle pieces with the same shape.”

Combeferre did not want to admit that Jehan’s words made him feel better but they did. It was impossible for Jehan to be anything other than a beacon of the warmest and softest light. His words had a way of nudging themselves into your soul and growing roots.

Combeferre, pleasantly numbed by his words, decided that he needed to return the favor. Jehan was, after all, sitting by himself while everyone else was a blur of chatter and laughter around him.

“Thank you.” Combeferre smiled gratefully before glancing at the pool, at Courfeyrac where the poet’s eyes kept wandering back to. He cleared his throat.

“Courfeyrac!” he called just as the boy emerged from the water. Courfeyrac grinned and shook out his curls, which plastered themselves against his forehead.

“Yes, dear?” he responded, his eyes latching onto the small boy next to him.

“Come here, please.” Combeferre motioned, and Courfeyrac didn’t need to be told twice. He climbed out of the pool, the water shimmering off of his tanned skin, and Jehan’s eyes widened ever so slightly as they swept down over the boy’s chest and defined abdomen, the way his swim trunks rested rather low on his hips; the smooth lines of his toned legs and shoulders. He blinked and then snapped out of it, falling into an easy smile.

“You look like you’ve been having fun,” Jehan noted boldly. He may be quiet, and he may blush easily and giggle, but Jean Prouvaire was not shy.

“Quite,” Courfeyrac responded with a smirk before taking a seat on the other side of him. Combeferre smiled and quietly excused himself, leaving them alone.

Jehan licked his lips and reached up, brushing the curls from Courfeyrac’s forehead.

“I’m glad,” he acknowledged quietly, his green eyes locking with the other boy’s dark browns and staying there. Courfeyrac felt his heart pound once loudly, and he was suddenly very conscious of how close the poet’s legs were to his.

Due to his hushed nature, Jehan had ample amount of time to observe this diverse group of friends. He had been introduced to everyone through Enjolras a year or so ago; Enjolras had been in an AP literature class with the poet and was immediately attracted to the boy’s unwavering stance on various subjects. He absorbed as much information as he shared. And what had made it even better was the fact that no one _expected_ that this small figure who wore braids in his hair and adored poetry was capable of unmatched fierceness. Enjolras knew that he would be a much needed, and appreciated, member to their growing group of kids who longed for change, who actually cared.

Courfeyrac had always caught Jehan’s eye. He was loud, but not in the obnoxious way that one would expect. His personality was so bright and cheerful, so full of avidity that it could not be ignored. He was charming and hilarious. He had pet names for everyone and was known for texting people at odd hours of the night with messages that made little or no sense. He was likable and enjoyed everyone’s company. He was the heart of the group and everyone’s dear friend. From the moment that Jehan had seen him, he had felt that weird sensation deep inside his belly that resembled butterflies fluttering around.

And now was no different. In fact, Jehan felt them worse.

“What are you doing over here all by yourself, flower?” Courfeyrac asked conversationally, though he made no attempts to further the distance between them.

Jehan shrugged and dropped his hand into his lap, looking around the party, where Bossuet had slipped into the pool, fully clothed, and Bahorel was howling, “I didn’t even push him in!”

“You know I like to observe,” Jehan answered and smiled kindly at the dark haired boy, and the other murmured in agreement. There was a steady thumping noise, and Jehan wasn’t sure if it was coming from his chest or Courfeyrac’s.

There was a brief moment of silence where both avoided looking in the other’s direction. Then Courf cleared his throat.

“Come swim with me for a bit?” he asked and Jehan smiled.

“If you insist,” he said softly, and he stood up to remove his shirt with capable fingers. Courfeyrac smiled and waited patiently before taking the other’s hand and leading him to the pool. They shared a smile and jumped in, the water cool and crisp and inviting.

They were not in the pool for more than three seconds when a loud bang of thunder shook the sky followed by pouring rain.

“DAMMIT!” Bahorel wailed as he scrambled out of the water. “Laigle, we shouldn’t have invited you!”

“HEY!” Bossuet protested through the screams and people fleeing for shelter.

The chaos caused a diversion, and no one noticed the way Jehan looked at Courfeyrac as soon as their heads were out of the water. No one noted the way Courfeyrac brushed Jehan’s hair out of his face or when Courfeyrac swept in and brushed his lips against the tiny poet’s in a daring impulse. No one noticed when Jehan wrapped his arms around Courfeyrac and began kissing him with vigor, like nothing else existed, like they weren’t in danger of getting electrocuted in this swimming pool.

It was Enjolras who found them seconds later, yelling at them in his most threatening voice that he had a bed they could borrow if they got their asses out of a body of water while there was lightning.

Courfeyrac reluctantly pulled away from the poet long enough to get them both out of the pool and into the basement where half the party was huddled, the other half having runned to their cars. The air conditioner chilled his skin, and Jehan huddled closer to him in an unoccupied corner, shivering slightly but grinning. Courfeyrac took the opportunity to resume where they had left off, and he wrapped his arms around the smaller boy tightly, crushing him to his chest, as Jehan’s hand slid over his shoulders. With a tiny inhale of breath, they were kissing again, teeth chattering slightly but with surprising warmth. When Courfeyrac felt a surge of heat shoot through his body, he groaned a little breathlessly, and they were just about to deepen the embrace into something near obscene for being in front of people when a cat-call interrupted their movements.

“Jesus, Prouvaire! I didn’t know you had it in yah!” Bahorel’s voice was booming, even over the thunder, and he let out another loud whistle as others began clapping.

Combeferre watched from where he was leaned against the wall, his glasses splattered with raindrops and his hair hanging around his face in wet locks. Someone knocked shoulders with his and he turned to see Enjolras smiling at him.

“So Jehan and Courf, huh?” Enjolras observed. “I would have never called it but... I could see it working.”

Combeferre thought back to what Jehan had said earlier, about puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly. He grinned warmly and nodded. “They’ll get married one day. I’m calling it.”

Enjolras let out an amused noise but did not argue. There was a brief silence between them when Enjolras’s voice softened. “And us? Are we going to be okay?”

Combeferre inhaled deeply and turned to his best friend, the only person who knew him inside and out, the one whom he confided in, the one who had seen him at his best and worst. He knew, without a doubt, that their friendship, their bond would survive this.

He took Enjolras’s hand and squeezed. The blond relaxed. “Yeah, Enj, we’re going to be just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> We are planning on posting a series of vignettes which peek into the life of Jehan and Courfeyrac (mainly) with the rest of the boys thrown into the mix. They will consist of little snippets about various things that tickle our fancy!
> 
> Along with reading our series, feel free to follow both of us on Tumblr:
> 
> Rachel: beaumarbre.tumblr.com  
> Ashley: billypronto.tumblr.com


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